The Dream

by Jaycee Clark

  “I’m not perfect.”

  “Perfection is highly overrated, and so very boring. Don’t you think?” He wanted to get past this, put all this behind her. Patience. Time to prove his words correct. When she didn’t answer him, he continued. “So you think you are imperfect? Or that you have an imperfection?”

  Sighing, and chewing on her bottom lip she clearly weighed her answer. “Couldn’t we just put out the candles?”

  Jason ran his tongue around his teeth. “Give me a valid reason why I can’t see my wife, who I must admit, I’ve been fantasizing about for months, on our wedding night.”

  “Because.”

  “Emmy, that isn’t a reason.”

  “I don’t want you to see.”

  He squeezed her shoulders until she looked at him. “Don’t want me to see what?”

  She glared at him.

  Good. “Don’t want me to see what?” he repeated.

  “My scars!” She turned from him and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want you to see my scars.”

  Holding his anger back and completely controlling it were two different things.

  He felt the muscle in his jaw bunch. “I’ve already seen your scars.” He rested his hands on her shoulders again, wishing he knew how to make her see, how to make her understand. How to bloody help her. “Emmy, some scars are on the outside and some on the inside. Do you think I’m ugly? Imperfect?”

  She whirled back to him, throwing his hands off. “Why on earth would you ask me such a question?”

  “I seem to have seen a scar on myself the last time I looked in the mirror.”

  There was that smile. “Oh.” Her gaze locked to his scar, then rose to his eyes. “It’s strange, when I look at you I don’t even see that,” she admitted as she traced the crescent skin along his face.

  “Hmm.” It was the same way with him until someone reminded him of it. He couldn’t be more pleased. “So you do think I’m ugly?”

  “Of course not. You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and I still cannot believe you married me.”

  “Well believe it, Emmy. Now back to the matter at hand.” Kneading the tightened muscles of her shoulders, he said, “Some people think that a scar on the outside changes a person, who they are within. Most stay away from me for fear that I am as fearsome as I look. Do you think me dangerous?”

  Emily tilted her head, chewing on her bottom lip. “I’ve seen how you acted toward or because of the way someone insulted me,” she whispered. “I think to those you love you would be everything that is good and just, kind and supportive. But, yes, I think if you were ever crossed you could be dangerous. You have too much power not to be. I likened you to a warrior once. I think if someone did something to you, something unforgivable, then, yes, you could be as dangerous as you say many others see you.”

  Smiling he said, “You know me too well.” He grazed her collarbones with his thumbs. “Emmy, your scars are part of you.”

  She threw up her hands, her eyes confused. “I don’t know how to make you understand. How to explain.” She slapped a hand to her chest. “To me every single scar is a testament to my weakness. A trophy for Theodore Smith.”

  Control was damn hard.

  “Now I am bloody angry.” He held her shoulders. “Weak? No.” He kissed her, waited until she relaxed beneath his hands. Gently, he eased the chemise off her shoulders, kissing each one, until the thin gauzy material flowed to the floor. Her skin was creamy, soft as the petals on his bed. Fully clad, he rubbed against her. Her eyes shot open and he saw the wariness still swirled in the depths.

  Sighing, Jason led her over to a full-length mirror. There she stood, gloriously naked except for her stockings and the pendant, while he was fully clothed behind her. It was arousing, but not nearly so as the blush stealing up her chest to flush her cheeks.

  She started to bring her arms up in the age-old feminine move to cover herself, but Jason stayed them with his hands on her wrists.

  “Do you know what I see?” he asked, aware his voice was edged with anger and gruff with desire.

  Emily never took her eyes off of his, shaking her.

  “I see a woman. A beautiful strong woman who has been through trials that most cannot imagine.” He looked down at her back, a beautiful white back crisscrossed with scars. Though he’d seen it before, knew what to expect, rage still roared to life within him. That she was beaten was bad enough, that she had been marked was worse. He clenched his teeth at what had been done to her, at what he could not change. Gently he traced the thick puckered scar that snaked from her back to curl under her left breast.

  Controlling the fury that hummed through him, he said, “I won’t lie to you, Emmy. I hate what he did to you. That you had to suffer at that bastard’s hands.”

  Jason took a deep breath and looked back up into her reflected eyes. “When I see you, I no more see these scars than you see mine. To me you are simply Emily, the woman who finally consented to marry me. I don’t care about these,” he stated as he traced some on her back. “They only strengthened you. You are like a beautiful sword. Upon first inspection one only sees the outer beauty but, when used, one realizes the amount of time that beauty spent in the fire to become as strong and withstanding as it is.”

  Turning her around, he kissed her, while his fingers caressed her back. He continued his onslaught as he led her toward the bed.

  “After tonight you will never question your beauty again. With me, you will never forget it.”

  A sword.

  He thought she was like a sword.

  For some silly reason she felt like crying. Emily leaned down on the bed. Strength. Beauty. She could almost believe it. Could almost love this man who was quickly undressing to join her. Never had she been happier.

  Lying still and quietly, she waited for her husband, determined to make him as happy as he was making her. She didn’t want to disappoint him, she wanted him to be proud of her.

  Warmth spiraled through her, spreading out as he stood by the bed. His gaze traveled over her. Joining her, he ran his hands up her arms, kissed her shoulder, her jaw and finally her mouth. Emily emptied her mind of nervousness, fears, doubts and anything but Jason and what he was doing to her.

  He continued his onslaught until she was breathless and kissing him back. Quickly, he removed the remainder of his clothing. She wanted to look at him, but saw very little before he lay completely on top of her, pinning her to the bed. Their hands were clasped by her hair on the pillow.

  Emily wished she could have studied him as he had her. Contrasting to her, he was all planes and angles, contours of steel and crispy dark hair. Jason was lean, sinew and muscle. Dark hair covered his chest, trailing down to a patch at his groin. The hair of his legs brushed against hers.

  Jason stared at her, watched her changing expressions, and rubbed against her again. She gasped.

  He moved again. “Does that bother you?”

  A sharp intake of breath and a widening of her dark eyes was answer enough, but she replied, “No, yes. I mean it feels…”

  He purposefully moved against her again.

  “Yes?” He leaned down and nuzzled her neck. Slowly, he drew his hands away and gently removed the pendent from around her neck. As he continued his pursuit with his lips and tongue, he traced her ear, felt her shiver.

  He set the pendant aside, then took her hands again, watching her carefully. He wanted this to be perfect for her.

  Jason kissed her below her jawline, the pounding of her heart evident in the pulsing against his lips. Just one more taste. He wanted to swallow her whole, but instead raised his head from its journey to look into her smoldering eyes. He brushed his knuckles across her cheek.

  Emily was mesmerized by his eyes, her own traveled down his finely sculpted face to rest on his mouth. How she loved his mouth. Suddenly, Emily felt bold and daring. In that moment, the bindings of her past, of guilt, shame and insecurity crumbled. Looking up into his midnight
eyes, she brazenly demanded, “Kiss me, Jason. Kiss me again.”

  Smiling that wicked smile, he said, “Oh I intend to.” His hands traveled her face, cupping it.

  The only thought in his head was that she was his. All of her. Every delectable inch of this beautiful woman was his for his loving. Jason moved down her neck. Sucking slightly on her pounding pulse, he left his mark on her. While his mouth sought to ease and calm her, his hands started to build a fire within her. Kissing her chest, he moved down to the milky globes that were begging to be cherished by him. God she was beautiful and she was his. He couldn’t believe it. Emily was at long last his and he could finally do what he had only fantasized about.

  Jason’s mouth was hot and wet and sent pleasure pulsing through Emily’s body. His hands were driving her daft. He cupped her breasts, pulling a startled moan from her as her eyes flew open.

  He leaned up, studying. “Trust me, Emmy. Just trust me.”

  His hands continued in their conquest. Jason massaged her, cupped the weight of those beautiful breasts. He traced one blue vein that ran under her skin. He couldn’t believe the feel of them, the soft silkiness. Leaning down he kissed the undersides first, drawing a gasp and then a moan from Emily.

  She moved her hands, intent on pushing his head away, but her hands lay resting in his black hair, clasping as his mouth, hot and wet, sent pleasure pulsing through her body.

  Jason wanted to learn every little inch of her. Whispering love words to her, he continued in his pursuit to flame Emily’s passions, which he knew had never before been awakened.

  “What?” Emily couldn’t remember what it was he was saying.

  “Don’t ever say you’re ugly again.” The demand came as he kissed the scar beneath her left breast, molding it with his mouth, searing it with his tongue, tracing the raised skin. Emily could no more contain her shiver than stop the wind from howling outside.

  “Hmm. Sensitive are we?”

  His warm breath blew on her flesh. Jason teased first one then the other, tantalizing, yet never giving completely. Finally, he closed his mouth over the raised nipple. Emily arched off the bed, moaning deep in her throat. The feelings assaulting her senses were overwhelming her entire being. She didn’t know what to do.

  His mouth made love to her breasts as the feelings flooded her senses, exciting and terrifying her. Never had she felt like this. She didn’t know what to do, how to act. She took a deep breath trying to regain some control, only to let it out in a long moan as Jason began to suckle her. Something began to unfurl deep within her belly. Wanting, longing, but Emily knew not for what.

  At some point he had started to caress her, Emily didn’t know or care when. His hands were hot and warm, wicked in the pleasure they flicked through her, hot as fire. Raising her hands she clasped his head, spreading her fingers through his thick dark hair, caressing his head as he caressed her breast. Her hands roamed over his face, taut with passion, down his corded neck to rest on his wide shoulders.

  Jason leaned up and kissed her again and warmth spread through her. What was happening to her? She knew not.

  He continued to kiss her even as his cool hand moved upon the inside of her thigh, higher and higher still, branding where his fingers trailed. Emily gasped, crying out at the feelings his touch invoked. It was as if all of her soul swirled dizzyingly around, deep within her, as if the whole world were within her body.

  His hands were everywhere. He moved down her body, kissing her stomach, making the muscles quiver. He moved to one thigh. His teeth scraped, his mouth kissed, and his hands rolled her stocking down. His hot, wet mouth kissed the skin exposed in the wake of the gliding silk. Sliding up, he removed the other one and then kissed her from her toes to her head. His tongue swirled on the back of her knee and Emily shuddered.

  Jason badly wanted to love her with his mouth, but knew she was too new at all of this. As his mouth found hers again, he couldn’t believe Emily was his. This was more than any fantasy. He was winning her. So responsive. So giving. So alive. He held the greatest gift on earth in his arms.

  When he finally reached the place he sought, he couldn’t contain his moan of satisfaction to find her wet and ready for him. He took her cries in his mouth as his fingers slicked over her, began to work her. He’d die if he didn’t have her soon. Like some damn untried schoolboy. The need to sink into her raked hot through him. But, he wanted to be fully coherent when she came apart in his arms. He had to see her eyes as she climaxed.

  Those wicked fingers of his were driving her daft. They wove over her, around some point that begged to be touched, dipped in, pulling a cry from her throat.

  “Jason.” Emily opened her eyes and looked into the turbulent seas of his.

  “Trust me,” he whispered into her mouth. And with that he slipped his finger into her slick passage, and thought he would spill his seed then and there. Emily arched, bowing up off the bed.

  His fingers found a rhythm and he matched it with the erotic foreplay of his tongue.

  “Jason…”

  Finally, he touched the spot he knew would shatter her. With one arm under her, he nudged her face and stared into her eyes.

  “Keep your eyes open, Emily. Look at me, only me.” Emily did and at the moment her eyes locked onto his, she flew apart in his arms, crying out his name, but it was lost in the roar of his blood. He felt her tighten as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through her.

  Emily gasped for breath, stared at him with black, hazy eyes still clouded in passion.

  “Jason,” she sighed.

  Her muscles quivered. Rearing over her, he clasped her hips.

  “Emily.”

  Her eyes locked with his.

  “From this moment on you belong to me, and only to me.”

  Slowly she nodded. He sank to the hilt, surround by her warmth.

  Emily moaned his name, the feelings inside her building again as he began to move.

  She was so ready, so soft, and so right. Her muscles contracted around him and it was last thing he remembered. Throwing his head back, he growled deep in his throat as his release shook him to his very soul.

  Neither spoke for several minutes. Never in his life had he felt that way with a woman, as though his entire soul had left him for a moment and joined with another, so that he was not only himself, but part of someone else.

  Emily, spent and exhausted, tried to catch her breath. Never had she felt that way. She did not know that could happen, the feelings that would tear her apart, yet make her whole. She didn’t know how intense, how shattering those feelings could be, as though one’s soul was stripped down to its very core to join with another’s. To make love with another’s. She knew that was what just happened between her and Jason.

  Making love.

  Nothing between her and Theodore had ever been like this. He had said such things were evil, but surely they weren’t. Not between a husband and a wife.

  No, she wouldn’t think about that now. Now was between her and Jason.

  Only them.

  Sighing, she ran her hand back up into Jason’s dark hair. She pulled on his locks until he rose up to look at her. She smiled before she kissed him.

  Jason grinned and pulled out, rolling to his side and taking her with him. Absently, he rubbed her back.

  “Thank you.” Emily was the first to speak.

  Looking at her with a lazy grin, he probed, “For what?”

  “You know.”

  He wondered if the blush was from embarrassment or being loved properly.

  “No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?” He wanted to hear her say the words.

  “For showing me it could be like that between a man and a woman. Now I understand why so many poets have written endlessly about it.” She tangled her legs with his.

  Her words removed the grin from his face, for he realized the seriousness behind them. Wanting to lighten the mood he asked, “It?”

  She thumped his chest. “You know what I mean.
What happened between us?” She blushed prettily and whispered, “Making love.”

  Both were silent as he began kissing her.

  “So you enjoyed it?”

  “Hmm,” she said, returning his kiss. “Couldn’t you tell?”

  “I don’t know. Should we try again, just to make certain?”

  She pulled back, licked her lips. “Did you? Enjoy it?”

  Knowing what she was asking, he merely stared at her before turning her over on her back. “Let me see if I can show you just how much.”

  * * * * *

  November; America

  The night shrouded him, shadowed over him just as his sins darkened his soul.

  Tired. He was tired to the very marrow of his bones. The trees hid him from the moon.

  He stopped on the rise just above the barn. The moonlit barren field stretched from him down to the wooden structure.

  The faint smell of wood hinted that the fire had burned that night.

  He frowned, wondered if she had merely used the fire for cooking or if she’d been glutton and used it for warmth. The night was not nearly cold enough to warrant a blaze.

  Quietly he crept down the hillside, noting other changes. A new fence around the yard. Leaves crushed under his footfalls. The dry, decaying smell filled his senses.

  At the door, he stopped just short of opening it. Perhaps someone had given her a rifle or pistol to protect herself. Some people were not trustworthy. And if someone came looking for trouble, it was no doubt she had invited it.

  He knocked. Strove for patience. Man was master in his home. He should not have to wait out on the porch like a common beggar.

  Anger churned within him.

  A light flickered from inside. Finally the door was opened.

  Words died on his tongue at the older man standing there, white hair disheveled from sleep.

  “May I help you?” the old voice asked.

  “Where is my wife?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What are you doing in my house?” he asked, stepping forward.

  The man backed up. “I’m sorry, sir. This is my house. The last owner, a widow, sold it to us.”

  The candlelight might have fallen on his face because the other man’s expression changed.